Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings Memorial Poetry Corner

[vsmith]

In memeorial to the worst poet in the history of creation I hearby dedicate this topic to the creation, sharing and propogation of what for lack of a better term I will call Vogon Poetry, namely dedicated to the worst in history.

Vogon poetry is of course, the third worst in the universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet Master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem "Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in my Armpit One Midsummer Morning" four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging and the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived only by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos was reported to have been "disappointed" by the poem's reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his 12-book epic entitled "Zen and the Art of going to the Lavatory" when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save civilization, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain.

According to the Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy, the very worst poetry of all was Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Essex England...

History Revision here, the actual identity of the Very Worst Poet of all time can now be revealed as..

Paul Neil Milne Johnstone, a personal freind of Douglas Adams

Paul Neil Milne Johnstone was the person originally credited in the original radio play version of Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy with being "the very worst" poet in the universe. The name given was that of a real person, who apparently was not amused, and complained. The name was therefore changed to "Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex, England" in all later versions.

The poem to which Douglas Adams indirectly referred in the original radio series (and directly referred in the television series) can be viewed here.

According to M.J. Simpson, David Thomas (a mutual friend of Adams and Johnstone) once said "Although Paul was miffed by Douglas' epithet he was also amused. It was the inclusion of his then address (Beehive Court, Redbridge) in the first edition that annoyed him."

Johnstone attended Brentwood School, Essex with Adams, and received an award for Engli***he same year as him. He later won a scholarship to study at Cambridge University, paralleling Adams' accomplishments again. Johnstone later went on to achieve moderate success in the poetry world as an editor and festival organizer.

Johnstone passed away in April 2004 of pancreatic failure. He outlived Adams by a little under three years

The poem that won him this dubious Honor:

The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay.
They rotted.
They turned around occasionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.

Vogon Poetry is mild by comparison...

And to start this thread I invite all comers to try their hand at poetry, rhymes, haiku, and other long hair type writing, their would only be one rule, and that is that no experience is necessary or really wanted, just try it and be as creative or disgusting a butcher of the English language you can be.

Trains
cats
trees
pretty flowers
bodily functions

My first offering:

Socks

See, see the gravy smelling sky
Marvel at its big hubris depths.
Tell me, Baluoob do you
Wonder why the armadillo ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel baconish.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your hurgebly pubbled facial growth
That looks like
A cheese.
What's more, it knows
Your farstschlished potting shed
Smells of wasabi.
Everything under the big gravy sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm socks.

[xx(]


if you think you can do better , or if you think you can do worse, lets have it,
Out Out with it!

[Anonymous]

Re: I want to take a shot at bad writing:

"Generic Country Music Song"

I saw the train
Out in the rain
From a jail named Blaine
But it's my fault, you see--
I don't live in Maine, I live in Tennessee.

(Still trying to figure out how to work in those dead swans!)

allen

[Bob-Fryml]

I was sad when I did go
from the land of Phoebe Snow.
My eyes did burn, and my head was light,
from smoking too much Anthracite!

[Anonymous]

You should start your own thread, Bob-Fryml: your poem was GOOD!

[Anonymous]

I've written a bunch of em but most of them have an unacceptable word or two in them. How would you handle that?

Fun thread!

mike

[bobwilcox]

QUOTE: Originally posted by Bob-Fryml

I was sad when I did go
from the land of Phoebe Snow.
My eyes did burn, and my head was light,
from smoking too much Anthracite!

If you are out their Gene how about some of those wonderfull off-color Phoebe limricks from our days at One Market Plaza (aka Home of the FODAS).

[Anonymous]

Found one!

I'll write it without the unacceptable words. I think you can all figure it out.

Clara and the Hoodoodlins

We never saw em, but she said she did.
She would get mad because they'd get in the house and poop everywhere.
One time Tim came to see her.
He turned his dog loose in the house and chased all the Hoodoodlins away.
Clara was happy.
Maybe they won't come back.

[Anonymous]

Precisely why I am here! I have written a poyem! Have you heard "Run into the roundhouse Nellie, he can't corner you there!"

-- Falstaff Openshaw (a character in Allen's Alley)

[vsmith]

Uncle Pete

Why does Uncle Pete hate me so
All he seams to want is my money
I ain’t done nothing to him of lo
So it strikes kinda as funny
Yet Pete demands that I must pay
To enjoy my trains ‘ere no delay
Or his Stormtroop lawyers will decend
And confiscate my hobby, that you can depend!
Tiss to protect ourselves, his lawyers declare
From calendars and model train makers
Pete eats his competitors, spits their bones
Then declares these remains belong to me!
To even look at them requires a fee
Twill be a sad day when one Christmas eve
A child will ask, What was a Train, Daddy?

[Anonymous]

QUOTE: Originally posted by vsmith

Uncle Pete

Why does Uncle Pete hate me so
All he seams to want is my money
I ain’t done nothing to him of lo
So it strikes kinda as funny
Yet Pete demands that I must pay
To enjoy my trains ‘ere no delay
Or his Stormtroop lawyers will decend
And confiscate my hobby, that you can depend!
Tiss to protect ourselves, his lawyers declare
From calendars and model train makers
Pete eats his competitors, spits their bones
Then declares these remains belong to me!
To even look at them requires a fee
Twill be a sad day when one Christmas eve
A child will ask, What was a Train, Daddy?

Awesome. I think I'm gonna cry...

m

[Anonymous]

BNSF

BNSF, Why oh why
Did you have to take away
Our right to be
Within 100 ft. of you main li'
All we want to do
Is watch your trains go by
But now we can't
'Cause you had to be such a b-i.

[(-D][(-D][(-D]

Please, do not disapprove, it's the best that my feeble mind can produce. I'm not one with poetry. By the way, li' is short for line.

uspscsx

[loathar]

Steam or Deisel
I really don't care
If it runs on a track
My motto's- I'm there...

[dknelson]

He tried to cross
As fast train neared
Death didn't draft him
He volunteered
Burma Shave

Dave Nelson

[toenailridgesl]

Passengers will please refrain from flushing toilets while the train
Is in the station or while passing through;
Bums & hoboes underneath will get it in their eyes & teeth
And they'll dislike it just as much as you!

If you want to pass some water please oblige & call the porter
Who'll place a vessel in the vestibule;
The porter frowns on urination while the train is in the station,
He's the one who cleans up after you!

If your efforts are in vain then simply break a window pane
A simple trick that's used by quite a few;
But we encourage constipation while the train is in the station
TO stop the porter being in the pooh!

[tree68]

And just to prove that not all poetry is bad....

As I was walking out one night
I crossed two ribbons, polished bright.
The steel, I knew, led far away
A quest to follow another day.

And as I walked along the trail
I wondered what beasts lurked this rail.
Belching smoke and breathing fire,
Or sliding quietly beneath the wire.

My curiosity soon was soothed
As in the distance something moved.
The rumbling meant, I surely knew,
That a train would soon be coming through.

I stood beside the dormant rail,
And listened for the mournful wail
The trumpets blare, the clarion’s call,
The warning sounded for one and all.

A glint of light, down the rail I saw
And braced myself for impending awe.
A roaring monster, head ablaze
Rushing headlong into my gaze.

The ground it shook, my hat it flew
As the locomotives passed quickly through.
A wave, a toot, a friendly smile
Would make this memory last a while.

And then the railcars thundered past
With thumps and squeals until the last.
I turned and watched the final light
Then continued my walk out through the night.

[TrainFreak409]

I don't know what I've been told,
Trains were better burning coal.
Diesels aren't just what they seem,
We should have stuck with using steam!

[:P]

[tangerine-jack]

Midday sun:
around the trains I wander
and the day is gone

Ah! Grasshoppah!



[oX)]

[Anonymous]

As I write this on this forum
I hope my poetry will not bore em
I love all the trains, both steam and Deisel
But hate the Railroads, who act like weasels.

Once we sat and watched trains with purity
now we have to answer to homeland security
Gone is the day of the big heavy steam
replaced with the memory, the longing, the dream.

( be nice guys I dont do peotry)

[dknelson]

I had posted this on the model rr part of the forum but was asked to repost it here


The day was once
when in a frenzy
I'd purchase any HO, Pennsy.
Now North Western is my proto
for model trains
As well as photo.
Left-hand running,
Green and Yellow
All thoughts of tuscan
turned to Jello.
Loving Falcon
and 400, now sir
Lost all interest
In things Bowser.
Lesson here is
Don't be dumb
Bravely trade
that GG1.



Dave Nelson

[espeefoamer]

Boxcars have shackles
Coaches have seats
What SP served in its Automats
was recycled rhino treats[xx(].

Yak cheese and groundhog sausage waffles
Stareing me in the face as my head throbs
As I sit here wondering why oh why
Did I drink that diesel oil and habenero margurita?[xx(]

The gates were down but Simon Hay
Decided to his sorrow
To cross upon the right of way
His funeral is tomorrow
Burma shave

[TrainFreak409]

I walk along the tracks one day,
After overcoming measles,
I hear a sound that splits the air
From not steam nor diesel.
The sound only grew louder;
What one might call a whine.
I only smiled when I saw,
IT WAS A MIGHTY TURBINE!

[:D]

[Anonymous]

Yay
Here it comes
A Dash 9
Pulling a string of double-stacks

Didn't you ever learn that poetry didn't have to rhyme[:D]

[Anonymous]

Punch, brother, punch with care.
Punch in the presence of the passenger (passengare?)

Author unknown

[alcodave]

American train why do they so you such disdain
They will not ride in your passenger cars, they want to rid their
towns of your ugly freight yards, they care not for the goods you haul,
while they run to the shopping mall, they forget the wars that you helped win,
while their stuck at the crossing by that stupid train again, you built this country
but noone cares, you deliver their cars and food and material wares, you go unthanked for all your deeds, not asking for much just your right to be, you run your trains day and night rain or snow cloudy or bright ,you go unnoticed thru backyards and woods, doing what it takes to deliver the goods, one day maybe they will thank you for what you do, but until then remember some of us appreciate you.


ok guys that was my cheesy railroad poem.

[BigJim]

This thread is a sick and feeble attempt to rip off the honorable Edward George Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest!
http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/

[vsmith]

QUOTE: Originally posted by BigJim

This thread is a sick and feeble attempt to rip off the honorable Edward George Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest!
http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/

This is about Peotry, so go on
To cry about fiction methinks your a moron
In English Class though didst sleep
Understanding the differences down deep did not sink
Please do me a favor and before you continue
To show us your lack of the English langue'
And remember this a thread about Poetry
Bad Fiction is the is the prose of Dharmon composity
We are dedicated to a different set of Woeitry
So look up on the web the meaning of "Vogon Poetry"
Then return to us with your tail twenst your legs
And share with us your dread verse, we beg
If this is beyond your mental capacites
Then please, please skip ths thread of verbal catastrophies

[TrainFreak409]

Did you expect to see this reappear?[8D] My turn again!

Feelings of friends, and happiness,
Feeling loved, and being well.
Feelings that are re-enforced
By its gayly ringing bell.

Thoughts of pain, and those of sorrow,
Thoughts of love set in the past.
Memories brought back to life
By its mornful whistle's blast.

Time when strength was needed,
Times when life was rough,
Times like these are unearthed
By its solid chuff.

Stories of joy, and of gloom,
And when power reigned.
All these stories are brought to mind,
By the rhythm of a train.